Proud
by lezonne
Summary: "You're father would've been proud of you Draco." Draco speaks to his father before the funeral, speaking thoughts he's kept repressed for so long. Written for Ashleigh's Monthly Competitions (October), the 50 Ways to Say Goodbye Challenge and the Family Boot Camp prompt #47. One-shot. Complete!


**A/n:** And here's a new story! This one is family centric, so no romance this time around. Enjoy!

Written for _Ashleigh's Monthly Competitions _(October), the _50 Ways to Say Goodbye Challenge_ and the _Family Boot Camp _prompt #47 (caring).

* * *

Draco never quite understood what it was like to have a father around who supported you in everything you did. His was always concerned with him being the best and making sure he didn't shame the family name. Childhood consisted of nothing more than tedious lessons that he was uninterested in and as he grew older his father's main focus became fashioning him into the ideal Death Eater to serve Voldemort. But Lucius never really asked Draco what he would like to do with his time, his life.

And he never got to either. The young man stood in front of a coffin that chilly November day, ready to bid his father goodbye.

He had so much to say. But where would he start?

The funeral hadn't started yet. He instead had the entire place to himself, his mother too torn up with grief to be able to come and stare down at the unmoving body lying in the coffin. Only the top half opened, as the body wasn't in the best condition any longer.

Lucius didn't die a peaceful death.

Draco felt almost foolish standing there. If his father didn't care what he had to say in life, why would he listen in death? Maybe he was doing this to clear his own conscious instead.

Opening his mouth, Draco began to speak.

"They did a good job making you look normal," he began, nodding his head as though someone was actually listening. "It doesn't look like you were beaten to death. I guess that's why only half the coffin is open though, huh?"

No response.

Yes, now he knew he was delusional. Of course the body wouldn't respond! How could it? There was no soul left inside, no heart beating to make the body work. He was speaking to a corpse.

But he had to get these things off his chest before his father was buried. It needed to happen before he ended up six feet under.

Draco took another breath.

"I have to admit, I never thought I'd be burying you when I was only twenty-five. When you escaped imprisonment after the war ended, I just figured you'd be around to annoy me for years to come. I guess I was wrong."

He shuffled his feet. He kind of sounded like an arse.

"You weren't supposed to die you know," he continued in a softer voice. "Mother is dying without you. We may not have gotten along so well when I was younger, but that doesn't quite mean it was time for you to go. She's torn up on the inside about it, crying every day. There's nothing I can say that makes her smile anymore. She hasn't smiled since the day you died."

He hesitated. "I'm torn up inside too. It's strange really, since I always figured I wouldn't care when you died. When I was eighteen I kept hoping that disease you came down with would claim you. I was angry at the time for what you were saying to me, and my wife. Now, I kind of wish I hadn't been so rash with what I said. If there was a replay button on life that's one of those instances that I would've gone back to change. I also would've saved your life."

He chuckled dryly. "I guess it's a bit late to hope about that now, isn't it? There's not much that can be done at this point. I must say though, you're funeral will be remembered for ages. People are coming that I once thought would dance on your grave. Those bloody Gryffindor's from my year are coming to pay their respects. Almost all of them. If you were really here you'd probably tell all of them to get out."

Draco paused, bowing his head. This was harder than he thought it would be. It wasn't that he couldn't get the words to come out, but that he kept desperately hoping to hear a response to something he said. Only no one was going to reply.

His father was dead. He needed to get that through his head.

"Scorpius misses you," he continues, his voice cracking a bit with emotion. "He might only be five, but he notices you're not there when he goes to the Manor and only mother is around. He keeps asking about you, and we tell him you've gone away someplace special. He's just too young to understand what's happening. Right now he's somewhere in the building with Astoria. She's keeping him occupied until after we close the casket. I don't want my son seeing you like this."

He gulped. "I don't want to see you like this. It's harder than I ever thought it would be to say goodbye. I thought I had years left to savor my time with you, even if we usually don't get along. I should've made the moments count a bit more. I would've spent less time arguing and more time trying to actually converse with you. If I'd only known…"

The man's voice trailed off and he bowed his head again, taking several moments to compose himself. He couldn't break down, not with his son so nearby, and his mother even closer. During the funeral he needed to be strong for them. While Astoria believed that she could be strong for her husband, he knew it wasn't so. She was losing a father-in-law, not a blood family member. The situation was different for her.

Draco raised his head, chuckling hollowly. "I don't think I ever told you that I cared about you. When I was young you would say it a few times, but I don't think I ever said it back. The three of us were always a bit distanced like that. Now I wish we'd been a closer, warmer family in some ways. Maybe I wouldn't feel like you were such a stranger now. I don't know your dreams from when you were little, or anything about you personally. And now I'll never know."

He felt a tear dancing down his face but didn't brush it away. Maybe he just needed to cry. He hadn't cried at all until this moment.

"I hope you can be proud of me, wherever you are. I know you weren't always proud of my decisions when I was younger, but maybe now you'll be proud of me for being strong for mother. Maybe you'll be proud that I straightened out the family business. Maybe you'll be proud that I have done something with my life. Maybe."

A hand came down to rest on his shoulder, and Draco practically jumped from his seat. Whirling around he spotted his mother, whose cheeks were wet but a smile graced her face- the first smile he'd seen in quite some time.

"He would be proud," she said, her voice so soft he hardly heard her. "Just like I am proud of you. He just never got to say it in words. But he's proud of you Draco, so proud."

He helped his mother sit down, draping an arm around her shoulder as their heads rested together. It was the closest thing to a hug that they could manage at the moment. Their eyes continued to stare into the coffin, at the still face of Lucius Malfoy.

For some reason, Draco believed his mother in that moment. And he hoped that he could continue to make Lucius proud, wherever he was now.

It was through trembling lips that his next sentence came out. "Goodbye father."

* * *

**A/n: **I hope you enjoyed this story, even if it's not too cheery. Leave a review if you would be so kind!


End file.
